The Girl on Fire, Frozen
by SythiaSkyfire
Summary: Katniss is caught outside in a blizzard and Peeta comes to her rescue. Mostly fluff. Post- Mockingjay, pre-epilogue. This shows a short part of how they started or continued to grow back together. One-shot.


Somewhere between the fence and here, my game bag dropped from my frozen fingers. Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I didn't get a chance to catch anything before I fell through the ice.

Huge, feathery snowflakes fall thickly from the sky, all but hiding the buildings on either side of me from view. I can barely make my feet move- they feel weighted down, as if they've been filled with lead. Or ice. I'm covered in ice. My braid is frozen stiff and frost clings to my eyelashes.

_Keep walking, _I tell myself sternly. _Just make it as far as the Victors' Village, and then you'll be fine. _I cough, and once I start coughing I can't stop. It doesn't make me feel any better. I inhale snow, clogging up my throat and freezing me from the inside out.

_Just a few more steps._ I stumble and catch myself on a lamppost. My skin won't let go of the metal, and I end up tearing my hand away in a panic. _Just a few more steps._ I'm vaguely aware that my hand is bleeding. _Just…_

"Katniss?"

My head snaps up. Was it the wind? Is the cold making me hallucinate?

"Katniss?"

"Peeta!" I call, and my voice sounds so strained and hoarse that I flinch. "Peeta!"

"Katniss!"

I can see him, just a few yards away but almost hidden from view by a curtain of snowflakes. My knees are locking, and I'm only able to take a few steps before I start to fall. A pair of arms catches me, and I think Peeta says something, but I'm slipping to fast to hear it.

The first thing I register when I wake up is warmth. Something soft and heavy has been draped over me- the blue duvet cover from the bed- and a fire crackles somewhere to my left. My soaked, frozen hunting clothes have been replaced with a robe. My hand bandaged. I allow myself a few minutes of lethargy, just lying there and absorbing the heat, until a noise makes me sit up. The sound of the oven door closing, from the kitchen. Peeta.

I slump back onto the couch and curl my fingers into the duvet. Safe. I'm safe. Peeta will take care of me. If my mind wasn't so foggy, I might be frustrated at appearing so helpless, but as it is I'm just glad to be alive, not crumpled in a frozen lump on the streets somewhere.

"Hey."

I turn my head and see Peeta standing in the doorway with a mug in his hands.

"You're awake."

I nod and croak, "I'm alive."

Peeta walks over and sits down delicately on the couch, as if he's afraid of hurting me if he moves too suddenly. Maybe that's a good thing. I feel as if I might break into a thousand shards of ice if anything was to so much as bump into me.

He hands me the mug and I rise up on my elbows to take a tiny sip. The taste of hot chocolate fills my mouth, and only then I realize how dry my tongue was before.

"How long?" I ask shakily.

"Just about twenty minutes." He smoothes the hair back from my face and looks at me with concerned eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been living in a freezer for the past month." I take another sip of hot chocolate. It really does help, like it's warming up my insides.

"What happened? You didn't come home, and then it started snowing. I thought you had been caught in the blizzard."

"I was," I whisper, then clear my throat and say, "I was. I fell into the lake. Couldn't tell where the ground stopped and the ice started." Then I cough and drink more hot coco.

"You should be more careful," Peeta scolds. "You could have…" He trails off and when I look, his eyes are so full of pain that my stomach twists in guilt. I shouldn't have worried him so much.

"But I didn't." He opens his mouth, but I put a finger to his lips and say, "_I didn't_, Peeta. I'm fine now that you're here." Then I catch myself and look away. I didn't mean to say that last part out loud.

Peeta eases the mug from my hands and sets it on the table, then pulls me over so that I'm leaning against his shoulder. I tuck my feet up underneath me and pull the duvet around us. Peeta stiffens, and I realize: this is how we sat for our interview after the first games. I look up at his eyes and a flutter of fear goes through me. His pupils almost drown the blue.

I try to pull away, but the arm around me is too tense for me to escape, and I'm not sure what he would do if I pushed it away. I don't move. I barely breathe. At last he sighs and his muscles relax. I wait a few extra seconds, just to be sure, and then quietly say, "Peeta?"

Peeta nods stiffly. "I'm okay."

I wait for him to say something else, to do something, but he just stares into the fire, avoiding my gaze. He looks almost ashamed. The expression makes my heart ache.

At last I whisper, "Peeta… I trust you."

He looks at me with large, questioning eyes. I know why he's confused. Me? Trust him? The person who occasionally wants to kill me? But underneath his confusion is a layer of something else. I think it's hope.

"Do you know what I was thinking, walking through that storm?" I ask gently. Before he can answer, I rush on. "I was thinking that if I could only go a few more steps- if I could just make it to the Victors' Village- I would be all right. Because you would be there. To take care of me."

This time it's me who locks my eyes onto the fire. Peeta stays silent. I shouldn't have said anything. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Every time I try to help a situation, I just end up making it worse. I press my lips together to keep myself from apologizing for being such an idiot. A small part of me wants to get up and walk away before I can embarrass myself any more, but the rest of my mind argues that it would mean leaving behind Peeta's warmth. And I still feel chilled to the bone. I need as much warmth as I can get. Stupid blizzard.

Finally- _finally _- after my eyes sting from staring into the painfully bright flames, Peeta catches my chin with his thumb and turns my face towards him. He sees the tears in my eyes, from the fire, and thinks I am really crying. "Oh, Katniss," he murmurs, tucking my head onto his shoulder and wrapping his arms around me. "Thank you."

"For what?" I choke. Darn. Now I really am crying.

"For your trust. It… it means more to me than you could ever know." He strokes my hair, which has long since fallen out of its braid. "Just promise me something."

I pull back just enough to look up at him. "What?"

"Never scare me like that again. When I saw you stumbling toward me in the blizzard… You looked half dead. I thought you were hurt."

"No. Just frozen."

"Think of that. The Girl on Fire, frozen."

And suddenly we're both laughing, whether from relief or fatigue I'm not sure. What time is it? When did I get back? Peeta cups my face in his hands and says, "Promise me."

Oh, yeah. That. "I promise."

"Good." He leans down, automatically, it seems, then pauses and raises his eyebrows. Asking me permission. For my answer, I close the space between us. The kiss feels familiar. Warm. Safe. Not like the staged kisses for the cameras. Not quite normal, either. But close.

I lean my head on his shoulder when we break apart. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Saving me," I say, thinking of about a thousand more ways than just taking me inside from a snowstorm. Peeta has saved me in every way imaginable.


End file.
